Megan Mitcham: Elevation and 2 Free Novels for All

Billionaires…I never understood the draw. They’re barricaded from the world by high walls, security systems and guards. Blue Collar men, on the other hand, build the foundations we live upon. They see and experience the gritty world and do their part to make it a better place. These men aren’t afraid to get down and dirty.

To all our Blue Collar heroes out there, thank you! Without you we couldn’t…

A major thank you to Delilah Devlin for collecting such an amazing group of authors and being the visionary who set us on the path of Blue Collar badassary!

Excerpt from Elevation

“Nice work, talking that kid down. Way to end the week.” Sergeant flipped through the pages, carefully eyeing each one.

“Thank you, sir.” Laurel nodded stoically, but in her head celebrated with gyrating hips and double fist pumps.

“You’re missing a signature.” Her superior stomped all over her little victory dance. Before she could ask for clarification, he thrust the offending sheet at her. “Get it, or the kid won’t get his psych evaluation.”

What? She hadn’t missed a dotted “i” on that damn report. The kid struck a cord with her, and most days she couldn’t allow that to happen. A reaction incited others to react. To lead in a crisis, she had to display fortitude and nothing more. That kid, Jeremy, had needed a connection. She scoured the page. What Sarge returned wasn’t her report, but a witness’s account of the event. At the bottom of the page, the elevator installer’s signature—the one Tomlin had “gotten”—was missing. She’d sent her partner to get the guy’s signature, because she hadn’t wanted to deal with the all-American hottie while still so vulnerable from her exchange with Jeremy.

“Yes, sir.” Laurel stepped to her desk and dialed the witness’s number, a Mr. Nash Briggs. “Tomlin.” She barked his name across the room. No one’s head turned, not even her partner’s. “You were supposed to get the witness’s signature.”

“I did.” He stood from his perch on another officer’s desk.

“No, you didn’t.” She held up the page. The phone line rang in her ear.

“My bad, Hut. I appreciate you covering for me though.” Tomlin kissed the first two fingers on each hand, blew her peace signs, and walked backward into the hallway.

When she was about to tell him no way in hell was she covering for his screw-up again, the line came to life. “Hel—o?”

“Hello? Mr. Briggs?” The connection cut in and out on buzzing in the background.

“This is—Briggs.”

Shit. His deep gravelly voice rumbled straight to her clit.

Laurel swallowed her gasp, collapsed into her chair, and strived for focus. Hell, she couldn’t hear half of what he said anyway. “This is Officer Hutton with the MPD. I need to get your signature on the statement you made tonight.”

“I—finish this job—by tomorrow—come Sunday—You—come to the site—all night.”

Good lord, if this guy kept talking, butchered by a bad connection or not, she would come all night. A smirk formed on her lips. Maybe Tomlin wouldn’t be the only one getting laid. It had been a long damn time.

“I’ll be there in thirty.” God, had she just said that? Laurel waited for a response. The universe didn’t gift her with any more of his voice. She returned the phone to its cradle and set out to get it for herself.

Megan Mitcham is a USA Today bestselling author who has penned more than 15 sizzling suspense novels. Her work is said to whisk you across the globe, wedge your heart in your throat, make your hands sweat and your skin tingle. Check out Megan’s special forces heroes in the Base Branch Series. If you like the darker side of suspense, try her Bureau Series. She is a Mississippi native, living and loving it in the natural state.

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